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I forced a smile, trying my hardest to make it believable, and said, “I hope you’re right.” I had to play along the best I could. There was no way I was telling him what she told me.
Before either of us could say anything else my feet went out from under me and I was down on the ground.
Jude surprised me by not laughing. Instead he quickly bent down to make sure I was okay. “Tatum, are you hurt?” He asked, eyeing the knees of my now scuffed jeans. My hands were red and scratched from the concrete but I was otherwise unharmed.
“Oops, sorry.” I looked up in time to see the girl from earlier breeze past us, laughing with her friends. “I didn’t see you there.”
Jude helped me up and didn’t release his hold on me. “Brooke,” Jude called after her. His chest heaved violently with barely contained anger. “Apologize.”
Brooke paused, her glossy hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Why don’t you call me when you’re done playing house and then I’ll apologize? All. Night. Long.” The meaning in her words was clear.
Jude’s hold on my hands tightened as he tried to restrain himself from going after her.
With a satisfied smirk she flounced away with her friends.
Jude finally released me and I rubbed my hands on my jeans to displace the gravel clinging to the palms.
“I’ve never wanted to hit a woman until now,” Jude growled, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “She had no right to talk to you like that.” Intense brown eyes met mine.
I dipped my head and muttered, “It’s fine.”
“No,” he lifted my chin, “it’s most definitely not fine.”
I shook my head. “This was bound happen,” I sighed. “People aren’t pleased to see the campus playboy settle down. I expected it.” Not to this degree, but he didn’t need to know about that.
Two confrontations with Brooke—at least I knew her name now—sounded a bit fishy to me. Was she really that desperate that she was purposely seeking me out? Were people that pathetic?
“Here, let me see your hands.”
I reluctantly held out my hands for him to inspect.
“Good, nothing’s cut. Just a few scrapes. They’ll be tender though.” He met my eyes once more. “God, Tate, I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, it was.”
I suppose, in a way, he was responsible, but I didn’t see it that way. “She’s just jealous,” I replied. “It’s not a big deal.” I tried my best to play it off. I didn’t want him to see how much it affected me.
Jude put a guiding hand against my waist and we started towards his truck. He hadn’t changed into his scrubs yet. I wouldn’t tell him, but he was right, I loved the way he wore those scrubs.
He opened the passenger door for me and I climbed inside.
He was quiet as we pulled out into traffic, but then he said, “We have time to stop and eat.”
I shrugged. I didn’t feel hungry.
“If I recall correctly, I owe you a McFlurry,” he chuckled, reaching over to squeeze my knee. He was trying so hard to make me feel better.
“Only because I threw it at you.”
“Logistics,” he shrugged, pulling into the McDonald’s Drive-Thru line.
He ordered our food and parked the truck. I figured we were eating in the truck, but he hopped out, grabbing a blanket that he kept behind his seat.
I followed him to the back of the truck where he pulled down the tailgate. I saw what he was trying to do and took the blanket from him before he dropped our food. I folded it so it was thicker and then spread it out so we could both sit.
So far our April weather had been surprisingly warm. It was a nice change from cold, snowy, windy days.
